


No One Asked You

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All-New X-Factor, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Factor (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 30 day challenge, Asexual Character, M/M, background Warlock/Danger, hints at one-sided Doug/Warlock, hints of robot romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 16,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're bad news." </p><p>"Aren't we all?" </p><p>Pietro and Remy form a relationship in the midst of the new X-Factor team trying to be, well, a team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 30 day challenge mashed up from two different challenge lists, focusing on Remy and Pietro, but with appearances by the other characters involved in the All-New X-Factor series. Enjoy!

It started during a mission. 

Specifically, it started when Pietro decided that picking up Remy and running with him was the best way to prevent the both of them from being shot. And before Remy could even say “What?” he was already on the other side of the room, and Pietro was grinning at him like the smug bastard he was. 

It kept happening. And it always seemed to happen to him. 

“You keep getting yourself in trouble,” Pietro told him one night when they were both in the kitchen. He hadn't even bothered to look up from his book, which bothered Remy more than it should have. 

“I'm not incompetent,” Remy said, and Pietro muttered, “Could've fooled me,” and Remy added, “and I especially don't need to be rescued by the likes of you.” 

“And what are the likes of me, exactly?” Pietro asked. 

“Arrogant. Elitist. Evil,” he put extra emphasis on this last one, which caused Pietro to raise an eyebrow, but he still didn't look up. “We both know that I'm right.” 

“Next time I'll leave you to get crushed, or shot, then,” Pietro said. 

“Well, I won't,” Remy countered before stalking out of the kitchen. 

As it turned out, Pietro didn't stop rescuing him, and Remy didn't stop complaining, because it was quite a shock going from zero to nearly breaking the sound barrier and then back to zero in the space of a few seconds, and it always left him breathless and dazed. Not breathless enough to stop complaining. But still. 

The number of times he'd been in Pietro's arms was uncomfortably high. That needed to stop. 

And yet, it didn't.


	2. Accusation

“Where were you today?” 

Pietro tried to step around him to get into the bathroom but Remy didn't move. He settled for asking, “Are you my boss?” 

“No, but it seems like I'm the only one here not buying your act,” Remy said. “You disappeared. I saw. You weren't on site and it isn't like you have anywhere ta go. Everyone hates you, I'm surprised Snow even took you on.” 

“Your point?” 

“My point is,” Remy said, pointing a finger at Pietro's chest, “that you were reporting ta the Avengers.” 

“What interest would the Avengers have with X-Factor?” Pietro asked. “We should barely show up on their radar. Our mission don't overlap with theirs, if you haven't noticed.” 

“Why else would you be here?” Remy asked. “With a team no one cares about far away from your sister? Why wouldn't you just join the team she's on? I know you wanted her back. So that means that they've sent you here, on a mission.” 

“I knew Americans liked their conspiracy theories,” Pietro muttered, “but this--”

“You're not on this team 'cause you want to be,” Remy said. 

“And are you?” Pietro countered, narrowing his eyes. “You're a thief, and the only reason you're here is because you couldn't stand being an upright citizen for more than five minutes. I know that Wolverine apprehended you stealing. You're head of the Thieves' Guild. You have no right to accuse me of--”

“I have every right,” Remy said, “after the shit that happened because of you and your family. I don't care what anyone else says. You're bad news.” 

“Aren't we all?” Pietro grabbed Remy by the shoulders and spun him around before Remy could so much as take a breath to respond. The door opened and slammed shut, and a click followed a second later. Remy didn't bother trying to open the door. He knew it was locked. 

He stared at the door for a few seconds. Whatever it was, Pietro couldn't keep it a secret forever. In this world, in this career, secrets had a way of coming back and biting you in the ass.


	3. Restless

Pietro's foot tapped incessantly against the metal chair. Lorna was giving him a warning look, which he was ignoring, and Remy was three seconds away from pulling the chair out from under him. 

“You two,” Lorna said, “are the most likely to get questions at our press conference. Nothing big, probably, but just expect it. Since you both have history. And—Pietro, what is your problem?” 

“He's probably late for a meeting with the Avengers,” Remy muttered. 

“I am not,” Pietro said. His foot stopped tapping but he stood up. “The press conference is in four days, Lorna. Why are we here?” 

“So you don't say I didn't prepare you soon enough,” Lorna said, massaging her temples. “Look, you two especially need to help us promote the image that we are a team, and not just a bunch of misfits with nothing better to do.” 

“That's great,” Pietro said, striding for the door. “Can I go now?” 

“Do you have anything better ta do?” Remy asked. 

“Yes,” Pietro said. “Anything besides being told what I already know.” His hand was on the doorknob. Which was vibrating. 

Remy looked at Lorna, who seemed to have noticed it too, because she was frowning. “Is something wrong?” she asked. 

“No,” Pietro scoffed. “Of course not. I just detest wasting time.” 

“You're shaking,” Lorna said. 

“This is what we call anticipation,” Pietro told her with a smirk. There was something strained about it. 

“Fine,” Lorna said, waving her hand. “Go.” He did, the door swinging shut behind him. She turned to Remy. “I'm not convinced.” 

“I am,” Remy said. “That he's evil, that is. Or a double agent.” 

“Shut up,” Lorna muttered. 

“There's something about this press conference that's got him spooked,” Remy said. “Look at him. He can't stay still even more than usual. And I bet it has ta do with the fact that his loyalties aren't 100% with us.” 

“I'm going to pretend you never said that,” Lorna said, standing up.

“I'm just saying,” Remy said as she walked out the door, “don't be surprised if he brings trouble.”


	4. You Were Right About Me

“Don't,” Pietro said, rising from his seat, “say anything.” 

Remy raised his hands and took a step back. Pietro walked up to him, looking ready for a confrontation. 

“I know what you want to say,” Pietro continued. “You were right. I am all the terrible things that people say about me. If anyone shouldn't be on this team, it's me.” 

“You know,” Remy said, “before the press conference I kept thinking, what's the worst that could possibly happen? But I didn't imagine that.” 

“Yes, I know,” Pietro said. “I ruined the press conference. I've given X-Factor a bad name. I know that.” 

Remy glanced at the door behind him, still closed. They were in one of the conference rooms, because Pietro had taken to hiding in them because they were less obvious places to look for him than his own room, and Remy had wanted to talk. Partly to say “I told you so” and partly to learn the truth. 

“Tell me one thing,” he said. “Were you spying on us for the Avengers?” 

Pietro sighed, all the fight going out of him. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think.” 

“What reasons?” 

“Havok wanted to know how Lorna was doing,” Pietro said. “But I'm done. I'm not on the Avengers anymore. They don't need me.” 

“And we do?” Remy asked. 

“The number of times I've had to rescue you--”

“Forgive me if I have trouble believing in your loyalty,” Remy said. “After all, you proved my first instincts right.” 

Pietro ran a hand through his hair and looked away. 

“But,” said Remy, “you're proving them wrong too. 'Cause you owned up ta it.” 

Pietro stared at him. Then he looked away again with a frustrated sigh. “I want to make things right. I want to get to know Lorna better, because she's family. There are quite a few teams I've thought were full of idiots, but this one...is more bearable than the others.” 

“Thanks,” Remy said. 

“Would you rather me lie?” Pietro asked. 

“You've been doing it long enough,” Remy said. “It's hard ta trust you. You should probably fix that.” And then he turned and left, because he had nothing more to say. 

He'd been right. It was worse than he'd thought. 

But somehow, it wasn't the worst thing for any of them. Because they were all trying to get back on the right track. 

Pietro just had a lot more to get right than the rest of them.


	5. I'm Drunk

“Shit.” Remy giggled and nearly fell off his stool. Lorna put a hand on his arm, which did more to unsteady him than to balance him, and he had to grab the edge of the bar to keep from falling over. “You can drink me under the table.” 

“Y'know,” Lorna said, “the last time I was at a bar, I got into a fight.” 

“With who?” Remy asked. 

Lorna giggled. “Everyone.” 

“Why?”

“Quarter life crisis,” Lorna said. Her eyes moved past him to the door. Remy followed her gaze. 

“Hol-y shit,” he muttered. 

Pietro had come through the door and was scanning the bar. His eyes fell on the two of them and narrowed. He strode over, taking the stool next to Remy and sitting down. 

“I never thought you'd show up,” Lorna said, smirking around her glass. 

“Forgive me for the hesitation,” Pietro said. “Last time I was at a bar with you, you tried to shoot me.” 

“Too bad ya didn't succeed,” Remy muttered, and he and Lorna burst out laughing. 

“I don't see why I had to come,” Pietro said. 

“Ta relax,” Remy said, nudging him in the arm. Pietro jerked at the contact. “Come on. You're wound up tighter than...than...a really tight thing.” 

“This is pointless,” Pietro snapped. “A waste of time. I can't get drunk. At least, I can't sustain being drunk long enough to not want to kill either one of you.” 

“Think of it as team bonding,” Lorna said, sliding off her stool. To Remy she added, “he's all yours.” 

Both men sputtered, “What?!” 

“I promised to meet Danger at a bar with less teammates,” Lorna said. “She wants to give the whole socializing thing another try.” 

“I hate you,” Remy said. 

Lorna merely gave him a flirty wave and disappeared through the doors. Remy turned to Pietro and asked, “Drink?” 

“Are you buying?” 

“Why not?” Remy signaled the bartender and gestured for four shots. “I wanna see you drunk.” 

“It'll last for all of fifteen seconds,” Pietro said. “Whereas you—this is ridiculous. Lorna sent me here to babysit you.” 

“Hey,” Remy said, hitting his hand on the bar, “that's not true. I don't need babysitting. I'm perfectly fine.” The bartender put down four vodka shots as he was speaking, and Remy swayed dangerously. 

“How many have you had?” 

“Mmmm.” Remy tried to count and nearly fell over. He brought his hand close to his face, narrowed his eyes. “I wanna say five but maybe it was seven. Numbers aren't important.” 

“They are if I have to deal with you,” Pietro muttered, taking two of the shots in quick succession. Remy reached for the other two but Pietro slapped his hand away. “I'm cutting you off.” 

“You can't do that,” Remy complained. “I bought those drinks.” 

“Watch me,” Pietro said, and he downed the two shots just as quickly as he'd done the two before. He grimaced. “And now we're done. Let's go back before we end up on the news.” 

“You really don't like bars, do you?” Remy said, but he slid off his stool anyway and staggered out of the bar. 

Pietro had stopped a few feet away. Remy sidled up to him and nudged him in the arm. “Are we heading back or what?” 

“It's been a long time,” Pietro said, “but I think the alcohol's affecting me.” 

Remy took a closer look at Pietro's face. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes seemed glazed. “Try ta walk in a straight line,” he said. 

Pietro lurched forward and nearly fell. Remy caught him and dragged him into the alleyway beside the building, helping him lean against the wall. 

Pietro made a face. “It smells like garbage back here.” 

“Well, if you didn't look like you could fall inta the street at any second, we could go home, but we can't, can we?” 

“Just wait a minute,” Pietro muttered. He slid a little further down the wall, and Remy had to take on more of his weight to keep him up. “Why are you touching me?” 

“You of all people shouldn't be uncomfortable,” Remy said, “given the way you just pick me up and run every other mission.” 

“This isn't running,” Pietro pointed out. 

“Sometimes you gotta stay still,” Remy said. It actually felt kind of nice having Pietro lean against him. Pietro was all sharp angles, hardness, but he was also surprisingly warm. It gave him a fuzzy feeling, which was probably the alcohol. And the fact that they just stayed like that for more than than Remy thought he'd ever seen Pietro stand still. 

He turned his head, just a little, but the way they were standing, it allowed him to brush his lips against Pietro's. 

For a moment, Pietro leaned into it, and it was nice. Surprisingly nice. 

And then he shoved his hands into Remy's shoulders, pushing him against the wall. Remy cracked his head against the brick and yelped. “What was that for?” 

“Why did you do that?” Pietro's eyes were clearer. 

“Like you weren't enjoying it,” Remy said, rubbing his head. 

“I was drunk,” Pietro snapped. 

Remy smirked at him. “But were you really?” 

“Yes.” Pietro spun around in place, once, and then said, “I'm going home. I don't care if you follow.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Remy said, pushing himself away from the wall. “You were leaning against me longer than the minute you said it'd take you ta sober up.” 

“You're drunk,” Pietro said. “You have no concept of time.” 

“But I do got a concept of desire,” Remy said. 

Pietro groaned, turned, and darted off, leaving behind a slight gust of wind. 

“Ass,” Remy muttered, before starting his own, much slower walk back.


	6. Denial

Remy wanted to send Pietro flowers, if only to see the look on his face. He would've done it, too, if it didn't cost money. He could've stolen them, but he had a feeling Serval wouldn't be okay with that. 

Still, he wanted to do something. Mostly because when he'd gone into the kitchen for lunch Pietro, who'd been sitting at the table reading, had stood and walked out. This set off a thought process in Remy's mind that started with: So that's how it is. 

And was quickly headed towards: So this is how it's gonna be. 

He settled for sitting in the hallway opposite Pietro's room and rhythmically flinging slightly energy-charged playing cards at the door. 

After about ten cards the door opened and Pietro snapped, “Will you stop that?” 

“Not until you admit it,” Remy said. 

“Admit what?” 

“Your desire for me.” 

“No.” Pietro started to close the door again but Remy threw another card, which hit with a bang. Pietro sighed. 

“I got 41 more of these,” Remy said. 

“If I had any desire for you,” Pietro said, “I certainly don't now.” 

“Don't be like that, cher,” Remy said, pushing himself off the floor and sauntering over to the door. Pietro looked like he was half a second away from closing it in his face, but Remy put his foot in the opening before he could make that decision. 

“I'm going to murder you,” Pietro said. 

“And stain your already questionable reputation?” Remy asked, leaning forward. Pietro glared at him. Remy responded by kissing him. 

Pietro jerked back and muttered, “This isn't happening.” He nudged Remy's foot away and shut the door. 

“Whatever you wanna believe, cher,” Remy said. “You can't run from the truth.”


	7. Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't watch Downton Abbey, but I saw my first episode last night. Or half of it, because I got bored and went to sleep. But plenty of people I know love it. Anyway, Pietro watches Downton Abbey in Avengers Academy, so I've kept him watching it at Serval Industries.

“Is that...is that what I think it is?” 

Pietro, on the couch, turned his head, saw Remy, and frowned. “And you say I'm culturally oblivious.” 

“I didn't mean I don't know what it is,” Remy snapped. “I mean I can't believe you're watching it. Period drama, really?” He plopped down on the couch next to Pietro and elbowed him in the ribs. “Move over.” 

Pietro gave him a death-glare but moved aside so that he wasn't even close to touching Remy. If he could've been off the couch without looking like a fool, he would've been. 

“So,” Remy said after a moment of awkward silence. “Downtown Abbey, catch me up.” 

“First of all,” Pietro said in that I'm-so-much-better-than-you-why-am-I-even-talking-to-you voice, “it's Downton Abbey.” 

“That's stupid,” Remy said. “What the hell does that even mean?” 

“Second,” Pietro continued, “there is no catching you up. You'll only need a minute—well, maybe a full hour for you in particular—to figure out what this show is about. It's tedious. These people with their problems that hardly rate as problems. Overly dramatic, stupid--”

“Hold on,” Remy said, “I thought you liked this show.” 

“Please,” Pietro scoffed. “I like Top Gear.” 

“Ah yes,” Remy said, mocking Pietro's superior tone, “the pinnacle of television entertainment.”

“It's informative,” Pietro said stiffly. “Shush.” 

Remy turned his attention to the television and the nicely dressed people talking in posh English accents and their mansion. Or abbey. Whatever it was. They were all understated, but in a dramatic way, if that made sense. Also, it was boring as hell. Remy didn't care about any of them and their so-called problems. He did admire the way they dressed. 

And Pietro kept muttering things under his breath like “Idiot” and “This is awful” and “the writer should be fired.” 

“Pardon me if I'm being stupid,” Remy said, “but don't people usually watch shows they like?” 

“Many people enjoy this show,” Pietro said. 

“But you clearly don't,” Remy said. “And as entertaining as it is ta watch you pick this show ta pieces, one has ta wonder why you put up with it in the first place?” After all, Pietro didn't suffer through anything he deemed a waste of time. That's why he wouldn't watch things like Star Wars. This was more of a waste of time than Star Wars. (Star Wars wasn't even a waste.) 

Pietro glanced at him, then paused the program and said, “Wanda likes this show.” As if that explained everything. 

Remy didn't know much about the twins, having never spent much time with them, so he frowned and said, “That's nice and all, but why do you have ta watch it?” 

“I don't have to do anything,” Pietro said. “Wanda and I would talk about it. Lose ourselves in the petty fictional dramas of others.” 

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Would?” 

“I haven't spoken to her in some time,” Pietro admitted. “But when I do, I'd like to be up to date.” He gestured towards the television. 

“Spoilers, right,” Remy said. The impression he'd gotten from hearing other people talk was that Pietro and Wanda were inseparable. But he hadn't seen anything like that in the time he'd been at Serval. True, the twins had been through a lot in recent years. They'd caused a lot of shit. 

But maybe they'd dealt with it in different ways. 

Pietro had turned away from him. 

“So, are you gonna finish it?” Remy asked. 

“Are you going to interrupt?” 

“No.” 

“Fine.” Pietro pressed play, and they watched the rest of the episode in relative silence.


	8. Companion

“You did what?!” 

Remy walked into the kitchen just in time to see Lorna punch Pietro in the face. 

“Holy--” he ran towards them, putting himself between Lorna and Pietro as she went for another hit. 

Lorna bared her teeth at him. “Get out of the way, Remy!” 

“Hold on a second,” Remy said, “we can't have this in-team fighting. What's going on?”

“Ask him,” Lorna said. “And then get out of the way so I can punch him again!” 

Remy twisted around, still keeping his stance, to see Pietro holding a hand over his nose. There was blood. “What'd you do?” 

“Lorna found out I spied on her for Havok,” Pietro said, his voice muffled slightly. “So how about that, Remy. You were right.” 

Remy wasn't sure what to do. “Are you still spying on her?” 

“No,” Pietro said. “I quit the Avengers, right before the press conference. I genuinely care--”

“I don't need you spying on me for that scumbag,” Lorna snapped, “and I definitely don't need your fake concern.”

“I was truly worried, too,” Pietro said. 

“God, Pietro,” Lorna cried, “that's not the way to be concerned!” 

“She's got a point,” Remy said, still unsure whether to move or not. 

Lorna swiped a hand through the air. “Go.” 

“I don't think that's the best idea, Lorna.”

“Remy, get out of the way.” This came from Pietro. Remy turned around again. 

“You sure?” 

Pietro nodded, picking himself up off the ground. Remy stepped aside, Pietro opened his mouth to say something, and Lorna punched him again, hard enough to knock him into the counter. He slid to the floor. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. 

“You can take your sorry and shove it,” Lorna snapped, and she stormed out of the kitchen. 

Pietro buried his face in his hands. Remy, needing something to do, grabbed a handful of paper towels and knelt down in front of him. 

“Lemme see,” he said, grabbing Pietro's wrists and trying to pry his hands away. 

Pietro let him. His nose was bleeding, red streaking down over his lips and dripping off his chin, and there was a fantastic bruise staining his cheek. Remy handed him a paper towel, which he pressed against his nose. 

“I deserved that,” he muttered. 

“How many people have tried ta beat you up since the press conference?” Remy asked. “Just outta curiosity.” 

Pietro glared at him. “A few,” he said. “But--”

“You deserved it,” Remy said. “Well, yeah. Spying on one team for another is bad, and spying on Lorna makes her think you don't trust her.” 

“I do,” Pietro said. “I just—I've screwed up. Badly. With everyone.”

Remy wanted to say something like “Oh, how the mighty have fallen” but Pietro had already said as much during the press conference. Instead he grabbed another paper towel and started wiping the blood from Pietro's chin. 

Pietro looked up at him, brows drawn in confusion. “How'd Lorna find out?” Remy asked. 

“Wanda,” Pietro said, still looking like he was trying to figure out why Remy was here, helping him. “She spent the day with Lorna and Danger, wanted them to bond, like sisters. She let it slip when she was drunk. After she asked Lorna to join the Avengers.” 

Remy's hand stilled. “She what?” 

“I don't know why,” Pietro continued. “Wanda and Lorna never talked before. It makes me think that maybe she's...” He swallowed. “I haven't talked to Wanda since the press conference, and she hasn't said anything to me. We talked only sporadically before then, because Wanda wanted to have a life separate from us. To be her own person. She didn't need me anymore and finally, I was ready to let go--”

“And transfer that overbearing nature ta Lorna,” Remy suggested. 

Pietro grimaced. “Whenever something happened, before, we'd talk to each other. We'd seek each other out. If one was hiding the other would come to talk.”

And now Wanda hadn't come for him. She'd come for Lorna, offered her a place on her team instead of Pietro, and then had inadvertently gotten him in trouble. 

“You think she's angry at you?” Remy said, tossing the bloodied paper towel aside. Pietro did the same—his nose had stopped bleeding. 

“I don't know,” Pietro said. “I usually know and I don't.” 

“I'm sorry.” And Remy was. He didn't really know what it was like to be that close to someone for your whole life and then feel like you were losing them.

“Please,” Pietro muttered. 

Remy put a hand on Pietro's cheek, an odd gesture for him, but it felt like the right thing to do. Pietro's eyes widened. Remy said, “God help me, but I like you. I'm not writing you off. You're on my team.” 

Pietro laughed, softly. “I didn't know the team meant so much to you.” 

“It's the only thing I got right now,” Remy admitted. Pietro nodded. He knew what that was like. 

Remy took his hand away from Pietro's face and helped him up. Pietro leaned against the counter, getting his bearings. He looked like he needed a few drinks, and a shower. 

“I'm going to,” Pietro said, gesturing vaguely towards the hallway. 

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I'm sure Lorna'll come around.” 

Pietro nodded and darted out of the room, a blur disappearing around the corner. 

And Remy replayed the conversation in his mind while he made himself a large, stiff drink.


	9. Flame

There were lasers. Everywhere. 

And then they turned into flamethrowers. 

“Shit!” Lorna cried, trying to dodge one of them and burning some of her hair off. 

“This is why you should get a haircut,” Remy said. 

“Shut up,” Lorna said. She made it to the other end of the room, where the robots and Doug were. Pietro was somewhere along the opposite side, trying to figure out a way to diffuse the security so they could get through. 

And Remy had ended up stuck in the middle when the flames started shooting. 

“Quicksilver, any time now,” he said. 

“I don't see you helping,” Pietro replied, his voice strained. “Maybe it's on the other—arghhh!” A flame shot out of the wall where Pietro was trying to work, and he jumped out of the way, but not before it caught his arm. 

“Self has found a pathway to the control center in the walls,” Warlock called. His arm was attached to one of the panels just outside the room. 

“Great,” Lorna said. “Disable it before we all die.” 

“Self is trying,” Warlock said, and then a wall of flames burst from the walls, the ceiling, and the floor all along the edges of the room. Pietro cursed, and the others disappeared behind the flames. 

Pietro staggered to the center of the room, bumping into Remy. His uniform was smoking, slightly, on the left, and his teeth were gritted. The flames seemed to be getting closer. Remy felt sweat breaking out all along his body. 

“Anytime now, Warlock!” he called out. The roar of the flames drowned out his voice and, presumably, any reply. 

“I can run us through the flames,” Pietro suggested. 

“That's your plan?” Remy said. “I know you're fast but come on.” 

“I'd rather be burned than dead,” Pietro said, “but if you'd rather not, you can stay here. Not that I don't have faith in Warlock, but time is running out.” 

“What if the room's been sealed off?” Remy said. “How do we know that didn't happen?” 

“I'll check,” Pietro said with a small shrug. 

“You can't--” Pietro was gone before Remy could finish with, “check.” He reappeared panting and looking singed, his cheeks a bit too red. 

“You're right,” he gasped. “Sealed off. Flames are closing in.” He turned aside and coughed. The smoke started to irritate Remy's throat. 

“Well, shit,” Remy said. He looked at Pietro. “I guess it's time for those last-minute confessions?”

“What?” Pietro said, staring at him. 

“I don't hate you,” Remy said with a shrug. “Just so you can die knowing not everyone hates you.” 

“Thanks,” Pietro said, rolling his eyes. “How sweet.” 

“What about you?” Remy asked. “You never did talk about that kiss.” 

“Nothing to talk about,” Pietro said. 

Remy broke into a coughing fit. When he was done Pietro was looking at him with something like concern. “I don't want ta leave this world with out one last kiss,” he said, grinning. 

Pietro glared at him. “Out of all the things--”

The flames were dangerously close. Remy stepped closer to Pietro to prevent himself from being consumed. “I just wanna know,” Remy said. “Besides, I'd always said I'd like ta die doing something I enjoyed.” 

“Crass,” Pietro muttered. 

Remy choked on a laugh. “Who has the dirty mind now?” He felt dizzy, lightheaded. Like he might faint. 

“Fine,” Pietro said. 

Remy leaned forward and, placing a hand behind Pietro's neck, pulled him close, their lips touching, too warm against each other, too much heat, the roar of the flames consuming them, everything a little too bright and burning--

And then it stopped. 

Pietro pulled away first, and Remy opened his eyes. The flames were gone and the doors were sliding open. Everything looked scorched, including the two of them. Before Remy could say anything, Pietro grabbed him and they were in the next corridor, surrounded by their teammates, smoke trailing after them. 

“We should get them to a hospital,” Doug was saying, and Remy felt himself being maneuvered to the floor. He slumped against the cool wall, only half aware of the conversation around him. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Smoke inhalation, his lungs aren't as strong as mine--”

“Are you okay?” 

“I didn't know you cared, Lorna.” 

“I'm angry at you but I don't want you dead.” 

“I can run to the hospital.” 

“You shouldn't.” 

“He looks bad, Lorna.” 

Remy felt a warm, long-fingered hand on his cheek and he flinched away. Much closer, Pietro's voice said, “I should run there while I still can, and you can complete the mission.” 

“Pietro--”

“We're on thin ice with Snow, and Remy's practically unconscious. I can do this.” 

“Fine. Fine, but if something happens--”

“I'm already on your bad side.” A cough, then Remy felt himself being lifted up and tossed over a bony shoulder that dug into his stomach. 

And then the familiar rush of wind lulled him into unconsciousness.


	10. You'll Do

Remy was put on bed rest for a week. So was Pietro, but Pietro hated being on any sort of rest, so he zipped around Serval Headquarters doing mundane things like speed-cleaning, reading all the books everyone had (except for the ones written by Georgia's dad) and taking Luna to the grocery store so she could see what shopping for Earth food was like. Judging by her delightful chatter in the kitchen, she enjoyed it. 

Remy could also hear Luna and Georgia talking, laughing, and he wondered when Serval Industries became a house for kids. And also, when did the team become responsible adults? 

He had a nasty cough from all the smoke, bandages on his arms from the burns, and a pressing need to bug Pietro because he was annoyed that he was the only one following the doctor's orders. (At least Pietro was mostly staying inside, he'd give him that.) So he decided, on the third day, to call Pietro into the room. 

Pietro appeared, arms and neck bandaged, looking annoyed. “What,” he asked, his voice slightly raspy, do you want?” 

“I was just thinking,” Remy said, “since I'm the only one actually doing the bed rest thing and you seem all energetic, maybe you could help me out.” 

Pietro put his hands on his hips. “Are you serious?” 

“Yup.” Remy grinned at him. “I'm kinda hungry, actually.” 

“I am not making you food,” Pietro snapped. “You have legs, and as I recall, they weren't injured.” 

“Yeah but making food requires hands,” Remy said. “And my hands are injured.” 

“Are they?” Pietro said. 

“Just a drink, then. One stiff drink. Mostly 'cause I can't get the bottles ta open. Fine motor function is lost ta me.” 

Pietro rolled his eyes. “You are predictable to a fault. Fine.” He left the room and less than a minute later reappeared next to the bed, drink in hand. 

“How do you do that without spilling anything?” Remy asked. 

Pietro leaned over to hand him the drink. “Practice.” Remy grabbed his wrist before he could leave, setting the drink aside. “What is it now?” 

“I wanna answer a question,” Remy said. 

“What quest-” 

Remy pulled him closer and kissed him. Pietro put his hands on Remy's face, pushing him away. But not completely. He kept close, looking into Remy's eyes, searching. “I don't understand,” he said. “You hate me.”

“Hate is on a very thin line with lots of other emotions,” Remy said. “It might've been the smoke, but this could work.” 

“What could work,” Pietro said. 

“What we have here,” Remy said. 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” Remy smirked. “Things get lonely at Serval, we're both single--”

“I'm not like Snow's wife,” Pietro said. “You can't just sleep with me.”

“That wasn't the plan, cher,” Remy said. Then he reconsidered. “Not the only plan.” 

Pietro shrugged. “I suppose it's preferable to anyone else.” 

“Wait a second,” Remy said. “I have ta know if you like me.” 

Pietro did pull away fully this time, his lips twitching. “We'll see.” And then he was gone. 

Remy flopped back onto the bed, groaning. Not only was Pietro being difficult, but he was recovering faster. 

At least the drink was good.


	11. I Always Wondered What This Would Be Like

A gust of wind, and then Remy was yanked into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. 

“You never told me if this was supposed ta be a secret,” he said. Pietro answered by pulling him close and kissing him. 

When they came up for air, Pietro tilted his head to the side and said, “This is different.” 

“What is?” 

Pietro made a gesture that seemed to encompass all of Remy. “I've never been in a relationship with a man.” 

“Wait, really? You're a man virgin?” 

“Don't be crass,” Pietro said, rolling his eyes. 

“How many people have you been with, anyway?” Remy asked. 

“Unlike you, I don't sleep around,” Pietro said. “In the past few years, perhaps one person, briefly.” 

“You don't do anything but brief,” Remy muttered. “How brief?” 

“Five minutes.” 

“Of sex?!” Remy cried. 

“Shhh!” Pietro put his hand over Remy's mouth and hissed, “Of a relationship, you idiot.” 

“That's what some people call a hookup,” Remy said when Pietro took his hand away. 

“I wanted to let you know,” Pietro said, looking like it pained him. 

“In the bathroom?” Remy asked. “You do realize that bathrooms have other connotations, right?” 

“As do bedrooms, the kitchen—everything in your case.” Pietro sighed. “We should do something other than...this.” 

“Like a date?” Remy grinned. “I can cook a mean meal.” Pietro gave him a doubtful look. “I'm serious, haven't you seen me cook? I'm practically the only one who takes advantage of the kitchen, which, by the way, is state of the art.” 

“We could,” Pietro said. Remy could practically see the thoughts flitting across his face, the idea of what dinner with Remy would be like, what an actual date would be like, what that would mean for the two of them. It wouldn't be like being with his wife. 

Nothing about the two of them was normal, though. Which was kind of comforting in its own way to Remy. To Pietro, perhaps not so much. 

A knock on the door made him jump. “Fuck!” 

“I need to brush my teeth!” Lorna called. 

Remy gave Pietro a pointed look, and Pietro gave him one right back. After a few seconds of staring, Remy finally said, “I'll just be a minute. Or two. Not sure exactly.” 

He heard Lorna scoff and say, “I'll be back in five.” 

Pietro reached for the door handle but Remy blocked him. “Date?” 

After a second, Pietro nodded.


	12. Thanks

Pietro stared at the plate in front of him like it was going to explode. 

“Just eat,” Remy said, taking off his apron and tossing it over the back of his chair. 

Pietro frowned. “What is...gumbo?” 

“It's what's for dinner,” Remy said. “Now I know they didn't have this kind of amazing food where you're from--”

“We had our own amazing food,” Pietro countered. 

“Do you cook?” Remy asked. 

“No,” Pietro admitted. “But that's because--”

“No buts,” Remy said, stabbing a fork into one of his shrimp. “Eat.” 

Pietro sighed and, very reluctantly, began eating. Remy expected a complaint or two, but he was oddly silent. 

“You're awfully quiet,” Remy said. 

“I'm concentrating,” Pietro muttered. 

“On what?” 

“Eating slowly,” Pietro said. “Otherwise I tend to disturb the people with whom I'm sharing meals.” 

“Yeah, I guess eating a full meal in three seconds is kinda creepy,” Remy said. Pietro took a sip of his wine. Remy leaned forward, trying to read his reaction, but the only thing he got was that Pietro was, indeed, concentrating. “Don't slow down on my account.” 

“What, so you can comment on how strange I am?” Pietro asked. 

“No,” Remy said. “I just wanna know how the food is.” 

“A little spicy,” Pietro said, “and I'm not quite sure I'll survive the night. That's less because of the quality of the food, mind, and more because you made it.” He smirked, bringing his wine glass to his lips again. 

“I don't know how anyone puts up with you,” Remy said. “But fine. I don't need ta cook anymore meals. We can just go out ta McDonalds--”

“We are not,” Pietro said, looking horrified. 

“I'm just saying--”

“How is McDonalds the logical alternative to your home-cooked meal?” Pietro asked. “How does your mind work?” 

“In all the ways I know will rile you up, cher,” Remy said with a grin. 

Pietro looked down at his plate. Remy did, too, and was surprised to see that all the food on it was gone. At some point during this conversation, Pietro had finished his meal and Remy hadn't even noticed. 

“I hate you,” Pietro said. 

“Uh-huh,” Remy said. 

“I didn't hate the meal,” Pietro added. 

“I don't know why I agreed ta date you,” Remy said. “What kinda appreciation--” 

“Thank you,” Pietro interrupted. 

They both stared at each other. 

“I can get used ta this,” Remy said. 

“If I don't die tonight,” Pietro said, “you very well might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the 90's Quicksilver solo comics features Pietro at a meal trying not to eat too quickly. And failing. Poor Pietro.


	13. Silver

A stream of unintelligible words greeted Remy when he entered the conference room. Lorna was sitting in a chair looking annoyed, and Pietro was talking to someone via a video conference. The person on the screen was a man, looked like military, and they both seemed to be angry at each other. 

“What's this?” Remy asked, lowering himself into the chair next to Lorna. 

“He'll need calming down after this,” Lorna said. “I'm not quite ready to fill that role, and after your candlelit romance in the kitchen I figured you might.” 

“I might hate you right now,” Remy said. “But seriously, what's going on?” 

“Oh, someone from a Russian company called Serval because they're angry that they have a criminal on the team,” Lorna said. “It's a competitor. They threatened to break the story of how Snow found me—in jail, drunk, after a bar fight. Turns out they did some digging and had proof. Snow said that since this is all Pietro's fault, he could negotiate.” 

“Right.” Remy watched Pietro snarl at the man on the screen for a few moments. “I didn't know Pietro spoke Russian.” 

“Pietro speaks a lot of languages,” Lorna said. “He has to occupy himself somehow.” 

“Most people just waste time on the internet,” Remy said. 

“Pietro has a quick mind,” Lorna said. “He likes to learn things. He's actually pretty smart when he's not being a complete idiot.” 

Remy frowned. He hadn't really considered Pietro to be anything other than physically fast. “D'you think he knows French?” 

The screen went black and Pietro turned around. He took in Lorna and Remy and surprise briefly flitted across his face. 

“How'd it go?” Lorna asked. 

Pietro murmured something that sounded suspiciously like a curse and Lorna sighed. “Fine. Deal with it yourself.” And she left. 

“I didn't know you were smart,” Remy said. Pietro stared at him. “D'you know French?” 

“Yes,” Pietro said. “Why are you--? Oh, you talked to Lorna.” 

“She says your mind works fast.” 

“When it isn't making me insane,” Pietro muttered, and then grimaced because that was a bit dark for a morning talk. “Sorry. He was incredibly dense.” 

“I'm sure everyone seems dense ta you,” Remy said. 

“Very few people are worth putting up with,” Pietro said, “and he wasn't one of them.” He massaged his temples. 

Remy stood up and walked over to him, put a hand on his shoulder. “So I'm curious. How fast do you think?” 

“As fast as I do anything else,” Pietro said. “It must be an affront to your senses.” 

“Yeah, the south enjoys taking its time,” Remy agreed, reminiscing about the hot, lazy days of humid summers. The way people talked back home, like they had all the time in the world for you, and you had all the time to listen. That was nice. He missed it sometimes, but he hadn't wanted to stay for a reason. “I like the fast life, me.” 

“Even if you can't keep up?” Pietro said, shifting his stance. 

“I can always keep up,” Remy said, and the words were barely out of his mouth before he felt hands grab him and everything became a blur. When the world refocused, he was outside, in a park. “Wha--”

Pietro spun him around, kissed him, and pulled away. “Keep up,” he said, and disappeared. 

Remy looked around to see a bunch of other people staring at him. And then, he realized where he was because of the tall monument a few hundred feet away. 

Washington D.C. 

And Pietro had just left him there. 

“Ass!” he yelled. 

He could've sworn he heard laughter nearby, carried on a light gust of wind.


	14. I'm Awake and You're Breathing

It was dark. All the lights were off, and the only sound was Pietro's even breathing. 

“Pietro?” Remy asked. 

He didn't get a reply. 

He usually did. Pietro was restless even when he was supposed to be asleep. In fact, he'd probably wake up if Remy called his name again. 

He didn't, because it was nice seeing Pietro like this, still but not completely still. Relaxed and not all sharp-edged and...Remy could almost be tender towards him, like this. 

He leaned over and lightly kissed Pietro's cheek. Pietro stirred, slightly, and muttered something that sounded like it might've been in another language, and then settled back down. 

It was shocking that they were even in the same bed. Pietro had said that it wasn't actually the worst thing they could do because, in his words, “We'll both be asleep. I won't have to listen to your incessant talking.” And then they'd bickered for a while about which one of them actually did the most incessant talking. 

And then Remy had asked, “What, and we're not doing the other thing?” 

“What other thing?” 

“Ya know,” Remy had answered with a wink. 

And, rather coolly, Pietro had said, “No.” 

Not that Remy minded too much. A good cuddle was a good cuddle. It felt nice just to be in the same bed with someone, and Pietro was a great little spoon when he was unconscious. (He moved too much otherwise, and said things that were less than conducive to relaxed cuddling.) Pietro was difficult. But so was Remy. They liked each other like that, but they needed moments like this. 

Remy was thinking about the beach, and how Pietro would look on the beach, and how relaxed they would be, and he was enjoying those thoughts, when an alarm sounded throughout the building. Pietro shot out of bed, the lights turned on, and he appeared in front of Remy pulling on his Serval hoodie, hair sticking out in all directions and eyes way too sharp for someone who had just been asleep five seconds ago. 

“Do you know what that was?” Pietro asked. Remy blinked at him, dazed, and tried to sit up. “Never mind.” He grabbed a communication device from one of the pockets in his hoodie and said, “Lorna?” 

Whatever Lorna was saying on the other end clearly wasn't satisfactory. Pietro rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, I'll check it out. Meet me there.” To Remy he said, “Five minutes,” and dashed out of the room. 

“Five minutes where?” Remy groaned, but he pushed himself out of bed and started looking for a shirt.


	15. You Can Be Like Me

“Hey, Quicky, come here!” 

Pietro grabbed Remy by his shirt and hissed, “I am going to kill you.” 

“Don't be like that,” Remy said. “You let Doug call you that.” 

“I don't let Doug do anything,” Pietro said, “he just does. That doesn't mean you should.”

“Pietro?” 

Pietro let go of Remy and turned around to find Wanda standing there, looking bemused. “Wanda!” he cried. “How good to see you!” 

“And you,” Wanda said, inclining her head. Remy noticed they didn't hug. “It's nice to finally be able to meet the team.” 

“And what a good team it is,” Remy said, draping his arm around Pietro's shoulders. Wanda frowned, like she was trying to figure something out. 

“How are the Avengers?” Pietro asked. Remy could feel how tense he was. 

“Fine,” Wanda said. “How are you?” 

“Fine,” Pietro. “Is there any chance--?” 

“Oh!” Wanda smiled. “I forgot. I promised to visit Danger when I got here. And Lorna said we're all having dinner together, so I'll talk to you later.” 

“Wait,” Pietro said, as Wanda turned away. “I'm dating him!” 

Wanda turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Remy?” 

“Yes, Remy,” Remy said. 

“It's been quite the eventful few weeks for you, hasn't it?” Wanda said, and then she walked out of their little common area. 

Pietro groaned. Remy said, “It seems like she's avoiding something ta me.” 

“Yes, I'm sure she is,” Pietro said. “My betrayal of everyone by lying to them. She's seen the press conference.” 

Remy tried to massage Pietro's shoulders, but he moved away. “You need ta relax,” he said. “Let it roll off you.” 

“That's not me,” Pietro said. “I am physically incapable of relaxing.” 

“That's not true,” Remy said. “Everyone can. Wanda'll come around.” 

“And if she doesn't?” Pietro asked. “What then? She's the only thing that's ever kept me sane and we're getting farther and farther away--”

“Pietro--”

“I need Wanda and I need to talk to hersoIcanapologize--”

“Pietro!” Remy grabbed him by the shoulders. “We'll have dinner and it'll be fine. When she's ready ta talk, you'll talk.” 

“You really believe that,” Pietro said. 

“You do, too,” Remy said. “You don't think Wanda's just gonna let this all go.” 

Pietro sighed. Remy pulled him closer so that their foreheads were touching. 

“It'll be fine,” he said. “Do you believe me?” 

After a moment Pietro nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yesterday Peter David announced the cancellation of All-New X-Factor. Check out the link if you want to try and help keep it around: 
> 
> http://saveanxf.tumblr.com/


	16. Mad

Pietro was a blur. He'd been a blur for the past five minutes, and Remy was getting dizzy trying to keep up. Mostly because Pietro kept rearranging things in the room. 

“You ever run into a wall before?” Remy asked. “Because I don't see how you haven't already.” 

“Once,” Pietro said, “and it hurt.” The books on Pietro's shelf were suddenly organized by color instead of title. 

“Remember that thing about calm?” Remy asked. “This ain't it.” 

Pietro skidded to a stop in the middle of the room, breathing hard. “I need to go.” 

“Go where?” 

“Run,” Pietro said. “Far.”

“You still haven't told me why,” Remy said. 

“It's—you said we'd talk,” Pietro said. “Wanda and I. So we did. She needs time. And space. She's upset at me. I've broken her trust.” 

“Did she say you broke her trust?” Remy asked. 

“No,” Pietro admitted, “but I can tell. Why else wouldn't she want to talk to me? Why else would she need space?” 

“So give her space,” Remy said. 

“But what if--” He cut himself off. “No.” He started towards the door, slow enough that Remy managed to catch his arm before he opened it. “Let go.” 

“I thought we agreed, no more running,” Remy said. 

“You meant that metaphorically,” Pietro snapped. “I'm not running. There's nothing to run away from. We already talked and now there's just waiting.” 

“Then wait,” Remy said. “Calmly. I don't like the idea of you going running when you're all agitated like this.” 

“I do it all the time.” 

“It's freezing out. What're you so afraid of?” 

Pietro's hand clenched around the doorknob. “What if she comes to the conclusion that I can't be trusted again? That I'm a terrible person? That I'm not someone she wants to consider family?” 

“She won't,” Remy said, pulling Pietro away from the door. “Trust me.” 

Pietro yanked his arm from Remy's grip. “How do you know?” he shouted. 

Remy put his hands up. “Calm down. I know because I know how close you two were. You can't just forget about that sort of thing. And I'm trying ta help but you're just pushing me away.” 

Pietro stared at him. Remy took his arm again and guided him towards the bed, where they sat down. He drew Pietro into his arms, letting Pietro's head rest against his chest. He could feel Pietro's too-fast breathing. 

“Do you always get this worked up about stuff?” Remy asked. 

“Too fast for people to notice, usually,” Pietro said. They were quiet for a moment, as Pietro's breathing slowed down, and then he muttered, “Thanks.” 

Remy grinned into Pietro's hair. “No problem.”


	17. Winter

One of the things that perplexed Remy (and he was ready to admit, there were many) was Pietro's love for the Serval Industries hoodie. It was a weird color scheme for him (as was their uniform), bright yellow and black. Before Serval, Pietro had only ever worn blues and greens. But apparently the hoodie was so comfortable, he was willing to make an exception. 

Remy tried the hoodie on once. Not Pietro's, but his own. It was warm, and roomy, and soft. He put the hood over his head and looked at himself in the mirror. All he could see were his eyes, red and glowing, from under the hood. He felt like a cat. 

He decided that if anything, he could wear it for Halloween and scare unsuspecting children. 

Then winter came. The hoodie became a frequent fixture of Pietro's wardrobe, even more so than normal. There was also a red scarf.

Remy found Pietro sitting outside of Serval in the aftermath of a snow storm, when everything was coated in a glittery blanket of white fluff that hadn't yet been disturbed by animals or people or changing weather. He was wearing the scarf and the hoodie, which didn't match, and his hands were tucked into his pockets. The hood was up. 

Instead of sitting next to him, Remy got his coat and went into the kitchen to make hot chocolate. He was damn good at hot chocolate. He could make the sweetest, most comforting hot chocolate known to man and mutant alike. 

He took the two cups outside and set one down next to Pietro, sat down, and held his own cup between his hands to absorb the warmth. 

Cautiously, Pietro picked up the hot chocolate and frowned at it. “What's this?” 

“The second best thing you've ever had,” Remy said, grinning. “Aside from me.” This earned him a scoff. 

Pietro held the cup in his hands for a moment before taking a sip. Remy couldn't see his face because of the hoodie, but he imagined an expression of pure bliss. 

“This is nice,” Pietro said after a moment. Being kind to Remy was still something he was learning, but it was okay. Remy was still learning, too. 

“Thought you'd like it,” Remy said. “I know you have a secret sweet tooth.” 

“I do not,” Pietro said. 

“Where's the scarf from?” Remy asked. 

“Wanda,” Pietro said, “when we were younger. She tried knitting and it never really stuck, but she gave me this scarf. It isn't particularly well-made, but...”

“It's from her,” Remy finished. The scarf did look like the stitches were uneven, fraying in some places. You couldn't sell it anywhere. “So, you like the winter?” 

“It's cold,” Pietro replied, “and I tend to feel cold more often than not. But it is the most beautiful of the seasons, if also the harshest.” 

“I dunno,” Remy said. “Have you been ta New Orleans in August? That heat is killer.” 

“I prefer warming up to cooling down,” Pietro said. He took another sip of his drink. 

Remy reached over and pulled Pietro's hood down. Pietro gave him an annoyed look, but only for a second. Then he took another sip of his drink, and couldn't quite hide the pleasure that flitted across his face. 

“D'you think Serval has Christmas parties?” Remy asked. “Secret Santa exchanges? Stuff like that?” 

Pietro looked horrified. “I hope not.” 

“I got my own ideas,” Remy said with a wink. 

“I'm sure you do,” Pietro said, looking away. Remy waited. After a moment, Pietro turned back to him. “Fine. But only if it involves this hot chocolate.”


	18. Wind

“Self is concerned about this storm,” Warlock said. 

The team was in the common area. Outside, a storm raged. They couldn't see three feet out the window. 

“This is what is called a white-out,” Danger said. “It will pass.” 

“Good cuddling weather,” Remy murmured to Pietro, and he got an elbow in the stomach as a response. 

“It's also a Nor-easter,” Lorna said, “and it's meant to stick around for the rest of the day. So, team, if anything comes up, we're screwed.” 

“Come on, Lorna,” Remy said. “It'll be fine.” 

“For once I agree with Remy,” Doug said. “There's nothing to worry about. Speaking of Remy, how about that hot chocolate?” 

“That was a secret,” Remy said, glancing at Pietro, who shrugged. 

“Quicky couldn't stop talking about it,” Doug said. Pietro bristled in irritation. 

“He was unusually vocal about it,” Lorna agreed. “But maybe 'cause I got him drunk the other night and he talked non-stop for the two minutes it took for him to sober up.”

Pietro's cheeks were stained red. “I don't remember any of this.” 

“Doesn't mean it didn't happen,” Lorna said. “I have witnesses.” 

“Pietro is quite amusing when drunk,” Danger said. “Perhaps we should do that again?” 

“Got nothing better to do,” Lorna said. “Remy, get the alcohol.” 

Remy glanced at Pietro, who nodded tersely. This was going to be fun. 

The minute he came back and stepped into the room, the lights went off. 

“Crap,” Lorna said. 

“Guess we'll be needing this more than ever,” Remy said, setting the various bottles of hard liquor he'd gathered on the floor. “One for each of you. Drink up.” He took the bourbon. 

Lorna grabbed the vodka. Pietro gave her a look before he settled for spiced rum. Doug had whisky, and Danger took Southern Comfort. Which left Warlock with apple schnapps. 

“Self is not sure about this,” Warlock said, taking the neon-green bottle. 

“It'll be fine,” Remy said before taking a huge gulp of his drink. “Let's play a game.” 

“These things aren't fun unless there's games involved,” Doug said. “Is this going to be a sort of honesty hour?” 

“Might as well,” Lorna said with a shrug. “So who wants to go first?” 

“Pietro,” Danger said, “is Wanda sexually attracted to robots?” 

Pietro choked on his drink. “What! Why are you asking that question? I don't--”

“Maybe we shouldn't start with that,” Lorna said. Remy patted Pietro on the back. Pietro unconsciously grasped the red scarf he was wearing. The one Remy had started calling the Scarlet Scarf because, well, why not? 

“Doug,” Danger said, “are you sexually attracted to robots?” 

Doug's eyes widened. “Um. I guess I could be.”

“Why do you keep asking this?” Warlock asked. 

“I have propositioned many people for sex,” Danger said, “and they have all refused.” 

“What!” Warlock clutched his bottle to his chest. “Self—I—when I said no to you, I meant that I was not ready. I wanted to date first.” 

Danger tilted her head. “Truly?” 

“Yes!” 

Danger considered Warlock for a moment. 

Remy sighed. “Glad we got that outta the way. Lorna, if you could give everyone on the team a different name, what would they be?” 

Lorna took a long pull from her bottle and considered it. To Warlock she said, “You'd be Self.” Warlock choked. To Danger she said, “You'd be...I like Danger actually, I'd keep that one.” She glanced at Doug. “Language Man.” 

“Hey!” Doug cried. 

Lorna turned to Remy. “Pain-In-the-Ass-Card-Guy,” and to Pietro, “Ass-silver.” 

“You're never allowed ta name the team,” Remy said. “So--”

“My turn,” Lorna said. “Pietro, what do you see in Remy?” 

“Remy,” Pietro repeated. His voice had a slur now, as if he'd gotten drunk in anticipation of this question. Also, a quarter of his rum was already gone. “He can keep up. He doesn't take shit from me. He's a good cook, and he's insufferable, but in an endearing way. I like having to spar with my partner, in all senses of the word.” Doug snickered. “And his hot chocolate is to die for.” 

“Here we go,” Doug murmured. 

Pietro leaned against Remy, who almost jumped in shock because Pietro didn't do that sort of thing outside of private quarters. “He could see right through me,” Pietro continued, “and he still puts up with me. Few people do that.”

Lorna was smirking, hard. “So you like him?” 

Pietro sighed. “I really like him.” A pause. “And his hot chocolate.”

“Right,” Remy said, trying not to blush because of the warm fuzzies he was feeling. “I hope you remember all that. Pietro, your turn.” 

“Doug,” Pietro said, “have you ever been in love with Warlock?” 

Everyone turned to him. Doug blushed and muttered, “I don't like this game anymore.” No one stopped looking at him, so he finally admitted, “Yes. Okay? Danger, your turn.” 

They kept playing as the room got colder, and Pietro kept close to Remy, probably because he was drunk and probably partially because of Remy's body warmth. Pietro couldn't stay drunk for long, but it seemed like he'd relaxed against Remy's side, against all odds. And he felt right, there. He fit in a way many people didn't. He was sharp edges and colder than normal people in all senses of the word and yet he fit. 

Remy almost didn't want the lights to come back on.


	19. Tremble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for a, um, sadder story arc.

It was the second time in a week that Lorna had been called to meet with Snow. 

She came into the kitchen looking frustrated, her face pinched. When she saw Remy she said, “Got any one of those comforting drinks?” 

“I can make one,” Remy said, putting down the newspaper he'd been reading and heading to the counter. “Hot chocolate or something stronger?” 

“I want something stronger,” Lorna said, “but I should go with hot chocolate.” 

“Alright.” Remy started warming up the milk. “So what's this all about with Snow?” 

“I don't want to worry you,” Lorna said. “This is all...stuff I should deal with on my own. As team leader and all.” 

“Oh, come on,” Remy said. “We're a team for a reason.” 

“Right.” Lorna sighed. “Snow thinks he might have to shut down the team.” 

“What?” Remy almost dropped the spoonful of cocoa he was holding. Without Serval, he wouldn't have a job. He'd have to go back to the X-Men. And frankly, he didn't really want to. He wasn't cut out to be a teacher. 

“I'm sure it'll be fine,” Lorna said. “It's just...difficult. We're in a state of flux.” 

“No kidding.” Remy took out two mugs. He needed some comfort himself. “And if that does happen? What'll you do?” 

“I don't know,” Lorna admitted. “It's my job to keep the team together and if I don't, I'll feel like I've failed.” 

“Not your fault,” Remy said, handing her a steaming mug. 

Lorna gave him a small smile. “Thanks. I'm gonna go relax. Calm down. This is all early...nothing might happen.” 

“I hope not,” Remy said. He watched Lorna leave, and when she was gone he turned around and nearly jumped. Pietro was standing there, watching him, his expression hard. “You heard that.” 

“I hope she's wrong,” Pietro said. 

“You actually care about the team, then,” Remy said. He shouldn't have said it, not with that amount of sarcasm, but old habits were hard to kick. 

“Yes,” Pietro snapped. “I don't know what I'll do if--” He cut himself off. His eyes were accusing. “You should know, of all people.” 

“I'm sorry,” Remy said, moving closer. “I didn't mean--” But Pietro was gone. 

Remy clutched his hot chocolate like it was a life-line.


	20. This Is My Desperation In Action

Pietro was missing. 

“Can you track him?” Remy asked Danger. They were both in front of the computer. She typed a few things in that Remy didn't understand and then nodded. 

“He seems to be in Baltimore.” She pointed at a dot on a map. “He made a call last night and then one right before he left. I imagine he's met someone.” 

“Do you know who he called?” 

Danger typed more things in. She said, “It appears to be Fatale.” 

“Shit,” Remy said. Without saying much else, he went to get the Serval car. He was going into Baltimore. 

He got there, the data uploaded to his phone showing him the way, and parked illegally on a side street. It didn't matter. This neighborhood looked like the police had abandoned it. He saw Pietro standing on a corner, checking his phone. 

“Fatale,” he said, “I know you're here, somewhere. Show yourself and we can talk. And you can demand what you want from me.” 

Remy stayed hidden because he was curious. Pietro, apparently, still felt like all his apologies weren't good enough. He hated that Pietro felt the need to do this. 

“Fatale,” Pietro called again. 

Suddenly, Fatale appeared behind Pietro. Remy shouted, but not before she plunged a knife through Pietro's stomach. 

Pietro gasped, his knees buckled, and the only thing holding him up was Fatale. Remy ran out from his hiding place, already charging one of his cards. 

“Fatale,” he shouted, and she and Pietro both looked up. “You'll wanna be leaving now.” 

“This is no less than what he deserves,” Fatale snarled, “for all the pain he's caused. He told me to demand what I wanted from him. This is it.” She jerked the knife up and Pietro cried out. 

Remy threw the card, and it hit her square on the forehead. She jerked back and fell, taking Pietro with her. Remy rushed over; Fatale was unconscious, and the knife was still there. He managed to get Fatale's hand off the knife, and then he pulled it out of Pietro. 

There was an alarming amount of blood. Pietro folded over himself, one arm curling tight over the wound. But entrance was in his back, and that was bleeding heavily, too. 

“Pietro,” Remy said, “we need ta get outta here.” He bit back his other question: “What were you thinking?” There'd be time for that later. 

“To Serval?” Pietro asked. His voice was strained. 

“Yeah. I took the car here. We just have ta--” 

“Too slow,” Pietro said. 

“You can't run,” Remy said. “You'll bleed ta death.” There was already a pool of blood on the floor. He glanced over to Fatale. Still unconscious. 

“Fine,” Pietro said. He looped an arm around Remy's shoulders and leaned on him. They both staggered to the car, and Remy deposited Pietro in the back so he could lie down before taking the wheel. 

“Ordinarily I wouldn't speed,” Remy said as he weaved through the streets and cut off at least ten cars, “but this is kind of an emergency.” 

Pietro didn't answer. Remy checked the rear-view mirror. He was lying across the seats, looking far too pale. 

“You with me?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Pietro said, faintly. “Tired.” 

“Not yet, you aren't,” Remy snapped, running a red light. Lorna was gonna kill him. He was surprised at how strange this all seemed to him. He didn't feel guilty, not exactly, but still. He'd spent the last few months mostly following the rules, and now breaking them felt like a foreign thing. “Talk ta me.” 

“About what?” Pietro's voice was even quieter. 

“Why'd you do that?” Remy couldn't help the anger that crept into his words. 

“If there's no team,” Pietro muttered, “no one else will have me. The only thing I can do...” He paused, coughed. It sounded disturbingly wet. “...make amends.” 

“You idiot,” Remy hissed. “You apologized. That's enough. We can't all be reality benders.” Because that had always been the problem. Pietro had always compared himself to Wanda and had always felt that he came up short. Remy didn't have those kinds of confidence issues, so he wasn't quite sure how to deal with them. All he knew was that it made him angry—though he wasn't sure who he was angry at. 

“Didn't think,” Pietro said, “she was going to stab me.” 

“Have you met Fatale?” Remy said, taking another too-sharp turn. Serval wasn't too far away. 

“S'okay,” Pietro slurred. “Deserved it. Can't do anything.” 

“Shut up,” Remy snapped. “Shut up, shut up. I've never heard anything so stupid in my life. You act like you're better than us half the time. I know you have high expectations for yourself. And then you let this shit happen. Live up to it! Stop thinking about how crap you are and start being the better person you want other people ta think you are.” He was sort of yelling. He realized that this probably wasn't helping. It was probably making Pietro feel worse, because he knew now that Pietro took things personally. He didn't have Remy's ability to let them slide off. 

But it was so hard watching someone beat themselves up, knowing they could be better. It was easier, back when Remy thought Pietro was just an ass. 

“Pietro...” He didn't know how he was going to finish that sentence. Didn't know whether what would come out was anger or an apology. 

There was no answer. He glanced back. 

Pietro was shaking.


	21. Hate

Serval had a medical division that hadn't quite been put to use, yet. But the doctor and nurses took Pietro into one of the rooms and began working on him, and that left Remy to explain to Lorna what had happened. 

“At least you went after him,” Lorna said after a moment. She looked like she was trying not to think of the alternative. 

“I wish I'd've stopped him before it happened,” Remy said, looking down at his hands. Now he knew how Pietro felt. Not good enough. Too little, too late. 

Lorna put a hand on his shoulder. “Fatale's unpredictable,” she said. “You couldn't have known what she was planning to do.” 

“I---yeah.” Remy felt like a hypocrite for not quite believing it, especially after the rant he'd given Pietro in the car. “Pietro scares me, sometimes.” 

“It runs in the family,” Lorna sighed. When Remy looked questioningly at her, she added, “we've all had our fair share of breakdowns, putting ourselves in danger, things like that. You know this. Usually on a larger scale. We're working on it. The team is good for us.”   
“Pietro was afraid,” Remy said, “that the team isn't gonna be around.” 

“Yeah.” Lorna glanced away. “I don't blame him. A team becomes like your home, you know. Where do you go after?” 

“Wanda still isn't really talking ta him,” Remy pointed out. 

“I'm more likely to get on the Avengers at this rate,” Lorna said. “I hope it doesn't come to that.” She gave Remy a shaky smile. “Anyway, thanks for bringing my stupid brother back.” 

“No problem.” 

A few hours later, after the doctor and nurses had finished stitching Pietro up, dressing his wounds, and giving him a blood transfusion, he woke up. Lorna saw him first and came out looking pale and like she needed a hug. But all she said was, “He wants to see you.” 

He went in. Pietro looked like he was having a hard time staying awake. Remy sat down next to the bed and took Pietro's cool hand in his. 

“I'm sorry,” Pietro said. 

For a moment Remy didn't know what to say. Apologies were so rare. “Me too. For what I said in the car--”

“No,” Pietro said. He swallowed. “You were right. Every time I think about myself, on my own—it isn't nice.” 

Remy squeezed his hand. “Sounds like you need a confidence boost. I know a few things about that.” 

Pietro laughed. It sounded a bit like choking. “Most people wouldn't bother.” 

“Yeah, well, I would,” Remy said. “And isn't that part of the problem? That you think you're not worth the time you'd need from others when things get difficult?” 

“Yes.” 

“Difficult is my middle name,” Remy said. “As is redemption, and all the other stuff about putting your life back together.” 

“But the team--”

“Don't worry about that till it happens, if it happens” Remy said. Pietro still looked anxious. “Or at least, try. For now, you're on the team, and there is a team, and the team supports you.” 

“That's what Lorna said,” Pietro muttered. 

“And she's right,” Remy said. “That's two against one. So there.” 

Pietro rolled his eyes. “Not the most convincing argument I've ever heard.” 

“If it takes time ta convince you, I'll gladly keep trying,” Remy promised. 

Pietro stared at him, disbelief fighting any other emotion he could feel. Remy could see it. As with almost everything involving Pietro, this wouldn't be easy. After a moment, Pietro looked away. 

But he squeezed Remy's hand. A start.


	22. Letters

There was a huge card from the Thieves Guild standing in the kitchen, decorated with a snowman holding a pile of expensive-looking jewels and declaring, “IT'S A STEAL!” And below that, “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” 

“I don't know what's worse,” Lorna said, “that you're part of the Thieves Guild or that you're all so obvious about it.” 

“They're nice,” Remy said. “I mean, look at that card. That is a nice card.” 

Lorna sighed and dumped a pile of envelopes on the table. “Most people don't actually want huge cards every Christmas.” The card was at least as tall as Remy. “Take that to your room.” 

“Um,” Remy said. He wasn't sure how he was gonna get it out of the kitchen. 

Lorna picked up two envelopes and grinned. “At least the people I know send normal-sized cards that I can enjoy.” 

“I'm enjoying that,” Remy said, making his way to the table. He sifted through the envelopes, at least one for every member of the team, and found another one addressed to him, with his name written in precise handwriting. “Look at that, they do care.” 

“Hmmm?” 

Remy waved the envelope in front of Lorna. “The X-Men sent me a card.” He ripped it open and found a rather standard Christmas card inside, with a picture of a decorated tree. Inside the card was a short message (Merry Christmas!) and a bunch of signatures. Logan had written “Hope you're enjoying the other X team!” and Scott had added, “There is always a place for you at the school.” 

“Those two aren't even at the same school,” Remy muttered, tossing the card on the table. 

“Oh, come on,” Lorna said, picking up another envelope with a look of distaste. “At least you're not getting cards from Alex Summers.” 

Remy watched as she opened the card, read it, and then tossed it over her shoulder. 

“Is Alex being a pain?” a voice behind them asked. Pietro was standing there, having caught Alex's card. He sounded like he was joking but he actually looked concerned. 

“You'd know all about that, wouldn't you,” Lorna said and then winced. “Sorry.” 

“It's fair,” Pietro said, slowly. He placed the card on the table, next to the one from the X-Men. 

“How're you feeling?” Remy asked, bumping his shoulder against Pietro's. Pietro still looked a bit peaky, and he'd said the night before that he felt tired, and still a bit pained. 

“Fine,” he said now, possibly because he didn't want to worry Lorna. Or possibly because he was distracted. His eyes were taking in the envelopes. He found two and picked them up. 

“Who's that from?” Remy asked. 

“Luna,” Pietro said, “and Wanda.” 

“Awww,” Lorna mouthed to Remy. They didn't say anything as Pietro opened and read both cards. 

“We should get the others in here ta read their cards,” Remy said. “It'll be like some sorta Hallmark movie.” 

“Shut up,” Pietro muttered, tucking the cards into the pocket of his hoodie. “What is that monstrosity?” 

Remy felt his cheeks going slightly red. “The Thieves Guild really misses me.” 

“That is not staying around, is it?” Pietro asked. 

“Lorna said ta put it in my room,” Remy said, “but it would be kinda creepy, looming over me while I sleep.” 

“I'd advise against it,” Pietro agreed. 

Lorna was smirking at both of them. “Pietro, why're you so concerned about what happens in Remy's room?” 

Pietro gave her a blank look and said, “I'm sure you can answer that question for yourself, Lorna.” 

Lorna couldn't stop smirking. She looked down at the envelopes and pulled a red one from the mix. “By the way? Wanda sent Danger a card.” 

Pietro and Remy glanced at each other. Then Pietro said, “I saw nothing” and walked out of the kitchen. Snickering, Remy followed.


	23. Haze

“Pietro, are you gonna wake up?” Remy sat on the edge of his bed, one hand nudging Pietro's shoulder. 

Pietro burrowed further under the blankets and murmured, “It'stooearlygivemetwomorehours.” 

“What?” Remy sighed. It was early, but he'd promised to make Pietro a special breakfast. Which would only work if Pietro was awake. 

Usually, Pietro was awake earlier. He didn't sleep as much as Remy did. But after his injury, he'd started sleeping more. Probably because he was still recovering. It would wear off as soon as Pietro had fully healed. 

Remy supposed that he ought to cherish this, because in a few weeks Pietro would be zipping around the room tossing Remy's clothes on the bed, and pulling away the blankets at some ungodly hour in the morning. 

“I guess we can make it a brunch,” Remy said, lowering himself back into the bed. “Give me some blanket.” 

Pietro tossed the blanket over both of them, and Remy felt like he was in some sort of blanket fort. He faced Pietro, who blinked at him slowly, and then shut his eyes. Remy could see the bandages still wrapped around his torso. Every time he saw them, he felt like his stomach dropped a little. 

Physical injuries weren't the only problem they were working with. But right now Pietro was calm, and not worried or anxious or anything really other than almost asleep. 

“I'm gonna remind you of this when you try ta wake me up early in a few weeks,” Remy said. 

Pietro tried, clumsily, to cover Remy's mouth with his hand. “I'm trying to sleep,” he slurred. “Don'truinthequiet.” 

“Never thought I'd hear that from you,” Remy said. Pietro's hand swiped at his mouth again, and Remy stage-whispered, “Sorry!” 

Pietro murmured, “Youbetterbe.” 

“At least let me be your big spoon,” Remy said, “if you're gonna make me stay in bed.” 

Pietro sighed, like this was the most difficult thing in the world for him, and turned over, allowing Remy to put his arms around him and rest his chin on Pietro's shoulder. 

“Night,” Remy said. 

Pietro nudged him, half-heartedly, in the ribs.


	24. I Thought I Needed This

When Pietro dragged Remy into his room, he wasn't expecting him to take his shirt off, revealing a red scar on his torso that had just recently healed. He definitely wasn't expecting to be pushed onto the bed. 

He really didn't expect Pietro to yank off his jacket with nearly enough force to dislocate his arm. 

“What're you doing?” Remy asked. Pietro climbed on top of him, looping one arm under Remy's neck. 

“What you've wanted to do since we started this,” Pietro said. He kissed Remy, long and deep and distracting enough that Remy forgot what he was going to say next. 

It was only when he tried to put his hand in Pietro's pants, and Pietro flinched back and broke contact, that he remembered. 

“Are you alright?” 

Breathing hard, flushed and not looking directly at him, Pietro muttered, “Fine. Sorry.” One hand clutched at Remy's hair. The other traveled down to his waist. They began to rut against each other, and Remy was once again distracted. He moaned when Pietro started sucking the sensitive skin of his throat, and arched up. 

Pietro pulled back again.

“Want me ta take my shirt off?” Remy asked. Everything was hazy. He loved how disheveled Pietro looked. 

But then Pietro frowned, opened his mouth, hesitated, made a noise like he was going to speak but didn't quite get the words out. 

Remy frowned and sat up. “What's wrong?” 

“I thought we needed,” he started, and then shut his mouth. He looked tense, and he still wasn't looking at Remy. He tried again. “Ithoughtyouwerenthappy.” 

“Too fast,” Remy said, quietly. That was worrying, when Pietro did that when he wasn't excited. 

“I can't,” Pietro said, “go further. I understand if you...if that makes you unhappy and you...” He made a helpless gesture. 

“And I what?” Remy asked. “Want ta leave? Just because you don't want ta, what, have sex with me? Is that what you thought? That I wasn't happy?” 

Pietro nodded. “You've put up with me,” he said, “and I know what you like.” 

“It's not the only thing I like,” Remy said. “I don't need it ta live. Look, I know you've been stressed lately, and things haven't been the best, but you don't have ta do that. What we're doing...I like what we're doing. It's new for me, but I like it.” 

“I thought--”

“You can't make assumptions about me,” Remy said. “We're past that now.” He was a little annoyed and it bled into his tone. Did Pietro think that he only thought people who he had sex with worthy of a relationship?

Pietro looked frustrated. “I didn't mean it insultingly.” 

Remy sighed. “I know. I can surprise people too, you know.” 

“Old habits,” Pietro muttered. Remy took his hands. 

“What do you want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a head canon that Pietro is a grey-asexual. Hence this chapter (and a few hints before this.)


	25. Transformation

Pietro was often annoyed, anxious, put-upon. Remy had never seen him furious. 

But he was lying on the ground after being hit in the chest by a masked man with a plasma gun that apparently wanted to kill Snow, feeling like his clothes and skin were burning, and Pietro was standing over him, shouting. Remy had caught a brief look at his face before Pietro faced the villain, and it was knife-sharp with rage. 

Then everything was a blur, probably because Pietro was moving too fast to see. Also probably because Remy's eyes kept blurring with tears, or maybe it was the start of unconsciousness. Either way, his chest really hurt, and he wanted to see what was wrong, but he couldn't really move. Then Pietro's face swam into view, his brows drawn together in concern, and he was talking and the words weren't making sense. 

“S'alright,” Remy said. 

Arms picked him up, arms that usually tossed him around almost carelessly but now were gingerly lifting him off the ground, and then the sound of wind blocked everything out and he closed his eyes because he couldn't see anyway, and then it stopped, and he was placed on something soft. 

Something was fitted over his face, and he breathed in deeply, and the pain started to dull. Everything started to dull, he couldn't even hear, and then--

He blinked. His vision cleared. The mask was off, and he was in a white room that looked vaguely familiar but definitely wasn't the place where they'd been fighting the guy who'd tried to kill Snow. His chest now ached, dully, like a scrape forming a scab, though he suspected that there were painkillers involved. He glanced around. An IV was dripping something into his arm, and on his other side, Pietro was leaning against the wall, sitting in a chair, his eyes hollow and staring at nothing. 

Remy coughed, and that took Pietro out of his seeming-trance and he rushed to the bedside. “Are you okay?” he asked. “How are you feeling? Doyouneedmoremedicine? Doyouknowwhereyouareorwhoyouareorwhathappened?” 

It took a moment to process all of those questions. Then Remy said, “No.” 

Pietro made a noise of frustration. “You don't know who you are!” 

“Yes,” Remy sighed. “I'm Remy Lebeau, this is Serval's medical wing or whatever they like ta call it. I got hit with a plasma gun. And...then it gets blurry from there.” 

“That idiot,” Pietro said, “hit you with his plasma gun. You have severe burns on your chest. They'll take time to heal, so don't do anything stupid.” 

“Like what?” Remy asked. “Hit myself repeatedly in the chest?” 

“Run head first into danger,” Pietro specified. 

“That's hard,” Remy said, “considering she's part of the team.” 

Pietro groaned, but it was only half-hearted. 

“What happened ta the guy?” Remy asked. “Where's everyone else?”

“Double-checking security,” Pietro said, “and debriefing. I-” He paused, then sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, and pressed his lips against Remy's. Remy felt a rush of warmth towards Pietro. 

“If I could wake up like this every time I got injured,” he muttered. 

Pietro pulled away. “Don't get ideas.” 

Someone at the door cleared their throat, causing both of them to look up. 

“I want to talk to you,” Lorna said. “Just a debriefing. Pietro, out.” 

Pietro left the room and Lorna took his place on the bed. 

“What happened?” Remy asked. 

“The man who shot you,” Lorna said. “He's dead.”


	26. I'm Cruel

Ever since Lorna's debriefing, Remy felt like there was a cold stone lodged in his stomach. He'd been released from the medical ward, told to rest for a few days and to come by for the next week each morning so they could redress and check up on the burns. 

That was all fine. Remy had been injured before, and it hurt, but the pain killers were good and they put things into a nice, fuzzy haze that made things easier to deal with. 

Things being, that Pietro had killed a guy because he'd hurt Remy. 

That was a bit hard to deal with. 

“Pietro is over protective of the people he loves,” Lorna had said. “It can be a problem. Like now, when we should've been able to question that guy on whether he was alone or not, or where he came from, what he knew, what his intentions were. Now we have nothing.” 

“That's all very practical,” Remy had said, “but can we go back ta the part where Pietro killed a guy because he hurt me?” 

“Impulsiveness runs in the family,” Lorna had replied with a grimace. “We're working on it.” 

Now Remy was in his room, sitting in his bed with a blanket draped over his shoulders, not wanting to think about what he had to say to Pietro because he didn't know what he had to say to Pietro. He wasn't sure how to feel, but something about the whole situation felt wrong. 

He wasn't given long to think about it, however, because Pietro came into his room in a gust of air and the quick open-and-shut of his door, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed looking concerned and not at all like a person who had killed out of rage less than twenty-four hours before. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Lorna said the doctors released you but you're still on pain killers. How's the wound? They've cleaned it, right?” 

Remy blinked in the face of Pietro's rapid-fire questioning. “I'm fine.” 

“You look dazed,” Pietro said, now making a visible effort to talk slower. One of his hands was tapping out a rhythm on the blankets. With the other, he made a jerky movement as if to reach out, then cut the action short. 

“I'm on Serval's best meds,” Remy said. “You know what it's like.” 

“I do,” Pietro agreed. There was a moment of awkward silence. And then, “LornatoldyouIkilledthatman.” 

“Lorna...?” 

“Told you,” Pietro repeated, “that the man who shot you is dead. I killed him.” His eyes were burning into Remy's. 

“Why're you telling me this?” Remy asked. The haze that had felt so good was starting to retreat. 

“I'm trying to be honest, remember?” Pietro ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “I'm letting you know. Does that...are you...angry?” 

“That,” Remy said, “depends entirely on how you feel about killing that guy.” 

Pietro's lips thinned. He was thinking. “He tried to hurt you,” he said. “I know I need to think before I act. In the moment, I could only think that he meant to kill you.” 

“Or incapacitate me,” Remy said. “You're not a telepath. How'd you know? And Lorna said we needed information off him--”

“There is no version of this where I wouldn't have attacked him,” Pietro interrupted. “I wanted him to hurt, for what he'd done to you.” 

“And I wanted Fatale ta hurt for what she'd done ta you,” Remy shot back, “but that don't mean I killed her.” 

“I'm not as good a person as you are, Remy,” Pietro said, his voice even. Just. 

“Don't start that,” Remy said. “I want ta know why. People are angry at you 'cause you killed mutants and at the time, you thought it was the right thing ta do. And you apologized but now you go and kill this guy and--”

“I'm a cruel person,” Pietro snapped.

“That isn't true,” Remy said. 

“Accept it, Remy. I can be cruel, especially when it comes to doing what I think is best for the people I--” Pietro cut himself off, eyes widening. 

“The people you what?” Remy asked, leaning forward. Pietro didn't say anything. “A lot of people think that what you think is best isn't actually what's best.” 

“I know that,” Pietro said, quietly. 

Remy kept his gaze. “The people you what?” he repeated. 

“The people I love,” Pietro said through gritted teeth. Remy leaned back, like he'd been hit by a strong gust of wind. 

And maybe he was, because the next second, Pietro was gone.


	27. Flame

It was the middle of winter, and Remy felt like the cold was seeping into his brain. 

Normally it didn't bother him, but right now he needed some sunshine and warmth and a nice cocktail and to stop thinking. If he wasn't stuck recovering in Serval, he'd have done something. Gone to the bar, at least. Right now the only thing he could do was sit in the kitchen and drink whiskey while various team members tip-toed around him. All of them except Pietro. 

Danger was the first one to actually say anything. “Are you and Pietro fighting?” she asked. 

“Probably,” Remy said. “Why, he talk ta you?” 

“No,” Danger said. “He is very closed off. Might I give you some advice?” 

Remy didn't say anything about how advice from a robot probably wasn't going to help. “Go for it.” 

“Have you tried having sex?” 

“For fuck's sake,” Remy snapped. “He doesn't even want sex.” 

“I thought that the pleasure of sex would make you both feel better,” Danger said. “Is this a problem, that he doesn't want sex?” 

“No,” Remy said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The problem is, I got a lot ta think about. Pietro killed a guy because of me. I can't have people dying every time they hurt me. That'd be a lot of people in my line of work.”

“I was surprised as well,” Danger said. “I was unaware that Pietro was capable of such passion.” 

“You really haven't been keeping up with his history then, have you?” Remy muttered. “What about you and Warlock?” 

Danger smiled, or gave him an approximation of one. “We went on two dates, and then Warlock accepted my proposition for sex.” 

“And?” 

“We both enjoyed it,” Danger said, “and are planning another round this afternoon.” 

“Too much info,” Remy said, taking a large gulp of his whiskey. “Got any better advice other than having sex?” 

“I don't have much experience in these matters,” Danger admitted. “Perhaps—have you tried talking to him?” 

“I haven't seen him,” Remy said. “And I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I don't know what I want from him.” 

“To be a better person,” Danger said. Remy gave her a look. “Is that wrong? You did not like him when you thought he was disloyal to the team, and a possible threat, and you grew to like him when you realized he cared about the team.” 

“You're wrong,” Remy said, half-heartedly. Because she wasn't, not really. Every time Pietro slipped back into the sins of his past, or the terrible thoughts that had gotten him into that dark place, Remy got angry. 

“I have learned,” Danger said, “that more often than not when people say I am wrong, I am right.”


	28. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left! It's the home stretch.

“I can't believe this,” Lorna said, waving an arm around as if to indicate the whole of the meeting room. “Most of the team is paired off and do you know what that does? It makes things awkward. I know you and Remy are arguing, and that Danger and Warlock are having sex, and the only one who isn't involved with someone else is Doug.” 

“Maybe you should date him,” Pietro muttered. 

“I'm not going to date Doug,” Lorna said, glaring at him. “My point is, you need to fix whatever is wrong with you and Remy.” 

“You think I don't know that?” Pietro asked. 

“I don't know,” Lorna said. “You're the one who said you needed to talk. That's my advice.”

“I can't fix it,” Pietro said. “A man is dead, and Remy wants him to be alive. If you haven't noticed, that's beyond my skill set.” 

“You could try apologizing,” Lorna suggested. 

“Apologies aren't good enough,” Pietro said. “There is a small part of me that is actually sorry. I don't think it's big as Remy needs it to be.” 

“There's always the possibility,” Lorna said, taking a seat on the table, “that you don't need to be with him.” 

Pietro stared up at her. “What?” 

“If you can't be the person he wants you to be--”

“I'm trying,” Pietro snapped. “And who is he to judge? He's a thief! He steals things for a living, and even his stint with the X-Men didn't fix that. If the team broke up tomorrow, he'd probably be back with the Thieves' Guild. He's not a good person, Lorna.” He made a noise of frustration and put his head in his hands. “And he still is better than I am.” 

Lorna gripped Pietro's shoulder. “You're trying. But maybe a relationship isn't what you need right now.” 

“I can't do that,” Pietro muttered. 

“Why not?” Lorna nudged him so that he looked up at her. 

“You're smart, Lorna,” Pietro said. “Why do you think?” 

Lorna stared at him. “You—oh. Oh.” 

“Right,” Pietro said, looking down. 

Lorna cupped her hand under his chin, tilted it so he could see her face. “Then why aren't you talking to him?”


	29. You Were Right About Me P.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! I'll be posting it on Tuesday night instead of tomorrow because I'm going to see a show tomorrow night (yay!). Enjoy!

Remy was in his room on the fourth day of his recovery when Pietro finally came around. 

His wounds were healing well. He didn't really need the painkillers anymore, and as a result he was getting pretty impatient and bored. And he had too much time to think. He wanted to talk to Pietro, but he wasn't going to break. He wasn't going to be the one to apologize, because he had nothing to be sorry for. 

And he wanted to hear Pietro say what he'd almost said when he left. 

It was morning, there were three rapid knocks on the door, and Remy called, “Come in,” and then Pietro was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking sharp and cold and very much like he had when he and Remy were first put on the same team. 

“I'm not gonna apologize,” Remy said, mostly to break the silence. 

“Fine,” Pietro said, taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry. There's a part of me that isn't, that believes that the man who tried to hurt you deserved to die for it. If you died and he hadn't...I'm not sorry that it's the other way around.” 

Remy nodded. It was similar enough to what Pietro had said before. “It doesn't have ta be that extreme. No one had ta die.” 

“I know,” Pietro said, his voice hard. “I'm sure you know this, but I'm going to reiterate it for you. You were right about me—I am not a good person. I've lied, killed, done countless other things that harmed people, and when I did those things, I thought they were right. I'm impulsive and cruel when it comes to the people I care about. I often make the wrong decisions because of that.” 

“I noticed,” Remy muttered. 

“I'm trying,” Pietro continued, “to get that under control. If you don't believe that, fine. It's a process, for me. So this is what you have to work with. This is what you would have to deal with. Or not.” 

Remy swallowed. He knew this. He knew all of this and he'd ignored it and ignored it because he was angry. And now that Pietro was saying it... The thing was, when they first started this, he'd agreed to it. Not explicitly, but he had all the same, because when you became involved with another person, you agreed to deal with their faults, to accept that they were trying, to help them if they needed it. 

But this was Pietro, and he knew why he'd held onto his anger for so long. Because Pietro was difficult, and it was hard to figure out where they stood half the time, because Pietro had spent so long in denial, and the two of them were so used to hating each other that it was easy to slip back into that mindset. It was easier. 

Remy said, “I want ta hear you say it.” 

“I hate you,” Pietro said. He stood up and gripped Remy's shoulders, leaning close enough so that they couldn't look anywhere but at each other. “I love you.” 

Remy moved forward, brushed Pietro's lips with his own. They touched foreheads, stayed like that for some time. And Remy murmured, “You're wrong. You're not a bad person. You're trying.” 

“Make me believe that,” Pietro said, closing his eyes. 

Remy pulled him onto the bed. “You made me.”


	30. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I hope you've enjoyed these two and their weird relationship!

There were rumors, and Lorna couldn't deny them because she didn't know the answers herself, and Snow had started disappearing on long business trips, and the team had been sent to far-flung corners of the world on more dangerous missions, and it seemed like things were coming to a point. An explosion of sorts. But what that was, no one could guess. 

Pietro was sitting, stiff-backed and alert, at the edge of a clearing. They were in a forest in Germany on yet another mission. Snow wanted information, and to take down a group that he claimed was a terrorist cell working against some of his customers, and there were precious few details, but the team went. 

They had about an hour before attacking, and they all hated the waiting. Diving into a mission was so much easier. 

So Pietro had taken position at the edge of the clearing they'd landed in, tense, like he was ready to attack at any moment. 

When Remy tapped his shoulder, he jumped up and spun around, then glared when he realized who it was. “Don't do that.” 

“Relax,” Remy said, pulling Pietro in for a kiss. Pietro allowed himself to lean into it, for a moment, before he pushed away. 

“You know Lorna doesn't like seeing that on missions,” he said. 

“The mission hasn't started,” Remy said. 

“I wish it would end,” Pietro muttered. Remy put a hand on his shoulder. “There's something wrong. I know you feel it, too. It's getting harder to trust Snow.” 

“I never really trusted him in the first place,” Remy pointed out. 

“I want to trust him,” Pietro said. “This team has been good. Lorna has become a fantastic leader, and if it was all for nothing, or because Snow is manipulating us--” He clenched his fists. 

“If Snow's manipulating us, we'll get our revenge,” Remy said. “Thing about about Snow is, he's got a lot of money riding on him. The higher they rise, the more they fall, and all that.” 

“And us?” Pietro had relaxed a bit, but he wasn't looking at Remy. 

“And us,” Remy said. “We don't need a team ta be us. Or are you one of those weird people who doesn't like relationships outside the office?” 

“Shut up,” Pietro muttered. 

“And people say I'm afraid of commitment,” Remy said, grinning. 

“I might kill you,” Pietro said. “If you think I have an issue with commitment, I'll have you know--”

“If anything you're too committed,” Remy said. “That's your problem. But it's okay. I like you anyway.” He draped an arm around Pietro's shoulder, leaned into him. 

“Lorna--” Pietro started. 

“Is not looking at us,” Remy said. “Can't I enjoy my calm before the dangerous mission?” 

“I don't see how you can enjoy it,” Pietro said, frowning at him. “In less than an hour any number of us could be hurt, or killed, or we could fail and--”

“You worry too much,” Remy said before placing a kiss on Pietro's lips. Pietro's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pull away. Remy did, and added, “I think I can help with that.” 

“I don't think you quite understand how worrying about people you care about works,” Pietro muttered. 

“I could make you forget.” Another kiss. This time Pietro did pull away. 

“I can't forget,” he said. 

Remy rested his head against Pietro's, because he knew that Pietro found that to be comforting. “It's not about forgetting,” he said. “It's about learning when ta hold on and when ta let go.” 

Pietro didn't answer. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. This was new. They rarely had time before jumping straight into a mission. On the one hand, it gave them more time to worry. On the other hand, Remy thought, this was nice, because they never talked about missions, or how they felt. 

“Guys!” Lorna's voice cut through the calm. “Can you not be disturbingly romantic while we're waiting to destroy our enemies?” 

Pietro sighed and leaned back. Remy grabbed his wrist to prevent him from moving too far. “Hold on a minute,” he said. “Now's not the time ta let go.” 

Pietro rolled his eyes. But he didn't pull away.


	31. Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! Because October has 31 days so 31 chapters seems good. Also because I was asked on Tumblr to write quickbit and cats, and fluff is a good way to end things.

Remy snickered as Pietro almost tripped over Lucifer and Figaro, who’d slunk between his legs and were now trying to climb onto him. 

"How do you do this?" Pietro asked, balancing a bag of cat food in one hand and a bowl in the other. "Does this happen every day?" 

"Every single day," Remy said. He took out his phone and decided he wasn’t gonna let this moment be forgotten. 

Pietro spun around and found his path blocked by Oliver, who looked up at him and went, “MEOW.” 

"Careful," Remy said. "Ya don’t want ta upset them. Which means no super speed." 

"Tsk," Pietro hissed. "Then how do I get from here to there?" He gestured with the bag full of food towards the opposite end of the room, where Remy had placed a mat atop which sat a bowl of water. The three cats followed the movement of the bag with their eyes, hypnotized, and when Pietro didn’t set it down, they all began meowing at once. 

"Very carefully," Remy said, grinning widely. 

Pietro tried to step forward and nearly tripped over Oliver. Figaro jumped onto his leg and Pietro jumped, almost over-balancing. A chorus of meows filled up the room. 

"They complain far too much," Pietro said, trying to shake Figaro off. His leg became a blur, and Figaro flew off and landed a few feet away, fur standing on end, tail puffed up, meowing pitifully. "Sorry." He didn’t sound sorry. 

"It’s how they show affection," Remy said, laughing as Lucifer jumped onto Pietro’s other leg. Pietro took another few steps forward, struggling as Oliver kept jumping in his path and bumping his head against Pietro’s feet. 

"I don’t want affection," Pietro said. "Why can’t you do this?" 

“‘Cause I wanted you ta do it,” Remy said. “If you’re gonna date me you gotta get ta know my cats. And they gotta like you.” 

"That is ridiculous," Pietro snapped. "I’ve never heard something so—argh!" 

Figaro, presumably still angry about being tossed across the room, took a running start and leaped onto Pietro, digging his claws into the fabric of Pietro’s Serval hoodie. The impact shocked him so much that Pietro overbalanced and fell backwards, his head thunking against the carpet, and cat food spilling all over him. 

With cries of delight, the three cats jumped on top of Pietro and began eating food off him, except Oliver, who sat by Pietro’s head and started licking his face. 

Remy knelt over him. “You okay?” 

Pietro glared up at him. “Are you filming this? I swear, Remy, if you’re filming this—”

"Not at all," Remy said, smoothly slipping the phone back into his pocket. 

"They’re on top of me," Pietro said, wincing as Oliver licked his cheek again with his sandpaper tongue. 

Remy smirked and lay down next to Pietro. He gave Pietro a quick kiss, and ran a hand through Pietro’s hair. “They like you. Just like their owner.” 

"Good to know," Pietro muttered. The three cats had now settled on Pietro’s chest and were purring contentedly. 

"You’d make a good cat," Remy said. 

Pietro glared at him. “Shut up.”


End file.
